


Family, Friendship and Magic

by fiinigan (wydryn)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Dean-Centric, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Minor Character Death, Minor Original Character(s), Original Character Death(s), canonverse, the minor ocs are so minor you barely learn their names
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-22
Updated: 2018-04-05
Packaged: 2018-07-26 00:58:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7554040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wydryn/pseuds/fiinigan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean went through Hogwarts with Seamus by his side.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Philosopher's Stone

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! This is basically a collection of drabbles from Dean's perspective, with a little bit of gay mixed in. I've tried to avoid actual scenes in the book as much as possible, I think I added maybe two? 
> 
> The rating is for swearing, because honestly British boys swear a lot, and so do I....., so it was easier for me to write dialogue with swearing. And I've always got the vibe that Seamus swears a lot, so I included that. They'll probably chill in the next few years I guess. 
> 
> There are two OCs in this, but its purely because JK never tells us about the other two girls who room with Hermione, Lavender and Parvati, and I'm not planning on making them a big deal.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> first year, feat. anger, stress, swearing and dean and seamus sharing a bed

The room was still, silence breached only by the quiet of five boys trying to sleep, awkwardly uncomfortable around each other. This was their first night in the same room, the first night of seven years, and Dean, for one, was praying that he wouldn’t fuck up too bad and piss anyone off. 

He didn’t remember all of his new roommates’ names, only Seamus, the Irish one, and the one who everyone was so impressed by. Harry Potter. Dean wasn’t sure quite what he was famous for, and he got the feeling Harry didn’t quite know either, he kept his head down, almost as though he was scared to do something wrong. Dean had never met anyone famous, but he was pretty sure they didn’t smile quite so brightly when someone payed attention to them like Harry did. 

He was nervous. He seemed to be the only one who came from a Muggle upbringing, except Harry, but Harry still automatically belonged. Seamus had enthusiastically told them about his father’s reaction to his mother’s magic, and from the sheer amount of siblings the ginger one had at Hogwarts, he had to be at least acquainted with the idea of magic, even if his parents didn’t have any. And as for the blond kid, well he owned a toad. A bloody honest to God toad. Dean had seen him lose it on the train, he was just hoping that he wouldn’t make a habit of it. 

 

Halfway into the next week the blond kid, Neville Longbottom, broke his wrist after falling off a bloody broom, an actual fucking flying broom, and he had lost his toad. He was currently in the hospital wing, and Harry and Ron, the ginger one, were off somewhere doing whatever they did after classes.

Dean sat with Seamus in their otherwise empty dorm, listening to the other boy complain about Harry getting on the Quidditch team. 

“It’s not that I wanted to be on the damn team, it’s that first years ain’t allowed, but Harry got on,” Seamus said. Dean thought it might be a little to do with Seamus wanting to get on the team, but he didn’t say anything. 

“I get it mate,” he said instead. 

“I mean, he’s this bloody built up person, y’know? Like he’s Harry fuckin’ Potter, the Boy Who Bloody Lived and all that crap, but to hear about how great he was when he was a fuckin’ one year old, is nothing compared to actually seeing the bastard be amazing now,” Seamus said, and Dean nodded, the curiosity that had been building since McGonagall had said Harry’s name itching at the back of his head. 

Dean knew that Harry was ‘the Boy Who Lived’, and that it had something to do with ‘You-Know-Who’, whoever he was. But Dean didn’t actually know why Harry living was such an amazement, or who ‘You-Know-Who’ was. 

“Why even is he the Boy Who Lived?” Dean asked Seamus now. Seamus laughed. 

“I forget you’re from Muggles,” he said, not harshly, but Dean felt a bit miffed by the way he said it. He’d felt a little looked down on by everyone here for being ‘Muggle-born’, not that he technically was. “Basically You-Know-Who-” Seamus trailed off, seeing Dean’s slight frown. 

“Wait, you do know who, right?” Seamus asked, his eyes widening slightly. Dean shook his head. 

“I get the feeling he was some dead bad man, but I ain’t so clear on the details.”

Seamus shook his head. “So, he was this raging arse who wanted to kill all Muggle-borns and rule the world, and he killed a fuckload of people. Get it?” Seamus asked. 

“What the fuck does Harry got to do with it?” Dean asked. 

Seamus raised his hands. “I’m gettin’ there. So You-Know-Who-”

“Why do you call him that? Why not his real name?” Dean asked. Seamus frowned. 

“Do you want to fuckin’ know what happened?” he asked. Dean didn’t say anything, just gestured for him to go on, so, groaning and rolling his eyes, he explained.

“He called himself ‘Lord Voldemort’, but I reckon that’s not his real name, it’s too bloody stupid. But for some reason people got freaked out and got too scared to say it. Can I get on with it?

“Okay, so one day Voldy gets it in his head he has to kill Harry Potter’s parents, and him, I guess. I actual think it was Hallowe’en, but that might just be made up to make it scarier. So he goes to their house, which is fuckin’ loaded with protective charms and all that by the way, and basically kicks down their door. He kills Lily and James, that was Harry’s parent’s names, and goes to kill Harry. He hits him with the same curse he used to kill his parents, exact same one, but somehow Harry fuckin’ deflects it or some shit. It ends up bouncin’ back to Voldy ‘imself, and destroyin’ him,” Seamus said, smiling at the end. 

Dean hadn’t known why exactly Harry, and a strangely high number of other kids in their year, were orphans, but suddenly he felt a deep sense of pity for the boy. He was famous for surviving when his parent’s hadn’t. 

“So is Voldemort dead?” he asked. Seamus scoffed.

“A hundred percent,” he said scornfully, but the scorn wasn’t directed at Dean. “Some dumbasses think he’s still around, but I think he’s long dead. He would’ve been back by now, it’s been eleven fuckin’ years.”

Dean wasn’t convinced, but he wasn’t going to argue. The two were interrupted by Neville bursting into the dorm. 

“Have either of you seen Trevor?” 

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

 

That night, Harry and Ron sneaked out of the dormitory, making an unnecessary amount of noise, and waking Dean. Dean stuck his head out of the curtains wondering what the fuck was going on, and saw Seamus doing the same. 

“Where the fuck did those two fucking idiots go?” Seamus whispered. 

“I don’t fucking know,” Dean whispered back. Seamus frowned. 

“We should stay awake until they get back, and yell at them for waking Neville up,” Seamus told Dean. Dean thought about it, and then nodded. 

Seamus got out of his bed, and sneaked over to Dean’s. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” Dean whisper shouted. Seamus smiled at him, his uneven teeth glinting slightly. 

“I’ll fall asleep if we don’t talk, and I really don’t want to wake Neville,” he said, waiting for Dean to let him onto the bed. Dean moved slightly, and Seamus pushed past the curtains. 

They just sat against the top of the bed, as close as they usually were, but it was different being on the same bed. Dean didn’t know why it felt so strange, but Seamus didn’t seem at all fazed, so he ignored the feeling. 

“Hey, Seamus,” Dean whispered. Seamus faced him, but didn’t reply. He was quiet when he was tired, with his sandy hair flopping into one eye, and his Irish accent was more pronounced when he did speak. 

“Do you ever miss home?” Dean asked. He did. His ache for his home, a small town, where his main conversations revolved around football, and moving on into high school, was ever present, especially at night. The walls of darkness closed in, and Dean was terrified of the dark, though he’d never tell anyone. 

Seamus shook his head, but still didn’t speak, letting Dean speak his mind. Dean appreciated that. 

“I do. I miss knowin’ exactly what I was going to do. Y’know I wanted to be an artist? I was gonna go to this Muggle high school that specialised in art, until I got the letter. But there’s not much art in the wizarding world. There’s magic. Magic paintings that come to life, but that’s what I loved about creating. I got to breathe life into somethin’ and it was all me, y’know? No magic, no shortcuts, just me, with a paintbrush, or a pencil, or a pen. It was my thing, I understood it. But now magic is my thing, and I don’t get any of it. How can this be real? I never even believed in magic before this place,” Dean rambled. 

Seamus was still quiet, but he moved to get under Dean’s duvet. 

“I didn’t really think about how you see Hogwarts,” Seamus said, lying down on his side. Dean followed suit, facing the other boy. 

He hadn’t really expected Seamus to have thought about it. He just hadn’t realised just how alone he felt. 

“But you can talk to me,” Seamus said, looking Dean in the eyes, his Irish accent shining through the words. Dean smiled. 

Harry, Ron and Neville came into the room, when Dean was still on the cusp of sleep, and he realised what had been at the back of his mind the whole time. 

Neville’s bed had been empty the whole night. 

 

The astronomy tower was impressive. The walls ended five foot high, where the windows began. The ceiling was clear, showing the sky above, the real sky, not the illusion the Great Hall created. The windows were all open, each with a telescope adorning it, a desk for two adjacent. Dean was sharing with Seamus, the two sat side by side in almost silence. 

“I love it in here,” Dean told Seamus. Seamus nodded, tired. 

“You tell me every week, after you’ve dragged me out my bed at bloody midnight,” Seamus said. 

“It’s worth it,” Dean told him. “I’d love to draw-” he stopped himself from continuing, but he knew Seamus had heard him. But the other boy didn’t push him to continue, instead continuing to complain. 

“I’d like it too, if we could not do it at night,” Seamus continued. 

“Yeah, I love blinding myself after looking at the bloody sun through a telescope,” Dean said.

Seamus sighed. “You know what I fuckin’ mean.” 

Dean had turned away from him to look through the telescope, and suddenly felt Seamus rest his head on his back. He froze, unsure of how to react, but Seamus moved his head before he had to do anything. He sat back in his chair, still a little shocked. 

Seamus rubbed the heels of his hands into his eyes. “I’m tired,” he slurred, lying his head on the table. Dean rolled his eyes, and started copying his half-finished star chart onto Seamus’ sheet, using Seamus’ handwriting. 

“Than’ you,” Seamus muttered, eyes closed. Dean shushed him. 

 

Dean hadn’t known that trolls were real twenty five minutes ago. But here he was, stuck in the common room, sitting against the wall beside the bookcase with Neville, Lavender, Parvati, Cara, Fiona and Seamus. Harry and Ron were, as usual, nowhere to be seen, and being the only first years in the common room, they’d been pushed aside so other years could take priority. 

Dean was squashed in between the corner of the room and Seamus. He could feel the other’s breathing and slightest movement. Fiona was talking about something in her subtle Scottish accent, but Dean was concentrating more on continuing to breathe. 

A fucking troll. An actual troll. A bloody, honest to God troll. Trolls don’t exist. They’re not real, they were created by someone’s imagination. If trolls could exist, what couldn’t? 

Could goblins? He’d seen weird looking men around the bank, but he’d had an allowance from Hogwarts for his books, so had avoided the bank completely, not wanting to bump into the men who freaked him out, but not because he thought they were fucking goblins. 

Dean rested his head in his hand, trying not to make it obvious he was freaking out. His world had suddenly got so much bigger, and more dangerous. What if a troll got in again? 

What if no one found it, until it had found Dean? What if it killed Seamus?

That was an almost worse thought. Seamus was his friend, his closet friend at Hogwarts. He was Dean’s Ron, the one he counted on to help him understand. If Seamus died, Dean would be lost.

He focused on the heat of his friend beside him, who awkwardly reached his arm around him, trying to make him feel better. 

He looked up, and saw Hermione, Harry and Ron step into the common room. Seamus whistled. 

“I don’ wanna know what they’ve been doin’,” he said, making all of them laugh.

Harry, Ron and Hermione joined them in the corner, and Dean felt a sense of family. The ten Gryffindors in their year, all together, surviving their first, and hopefully last, troll. 

 

Dean woke up to feverish excitement in the dorm. It was the first Quidditch game of the season, Slytherin versus Gryffindor. Seamus was painting his face red, and Neville was waiting patiently to get his done too. Dean got up and stretched out. 

Seamus was covering already red parts of his face with the paint, when Dean yanked them off him. 

“Hey!” Seamus complained. Dean looked at the paints properly. 

“Why are you using my face paints?” Dean asked. He had used them for watching football games, he couldn’t really afford any shirts, but he could paint the logo onto his cheeks. 

He’d brought them to Hogwarts because he thought they’d have football here too, not realising they’d have a weird arse game with no feet and like two hundred balls.  
Seamus groaned. “You gotta show your colours Dean!” 

“Not like that you don’t. You’ve almost used all the bloody red,” Dean said, pointing to his now meagre red. 

Neville sighed. “I wanted some too, Seamus,” he said, frowning at the other boy. Seamus frowned back, and Neville shrank away slightly. 

Dean smiled. “I’ll paint your face, Neville,” he told him. 

Neville nodded excitedly, but pouted slightly when Dean finished with: “After breakfast, I’m fucking starving.” Harry nodded in agreement. 

When they got to the Great Hall however, Harry wrapped his arms around his stomach and refused food, saying he wasn’t hungry.

Dean got him a plate of sausages, as Seamus told Harry, “Harry, you need your strength. Seekers are always the ones who get nobbled by the other team.”

Dean didn’t think that was incredibly persuasive, but Harry thanked Seamus as Dean pushed the sausages over for Seamus to put ketchup on. 

“Why did you put so much on?” Dean asked, smiling a bit. The excitement running through the hall had hit him too, he couldn’t wait for the match. 

After Harry was called away by a fifth year, Dean thought his name was Oscar, the other five went back to the common room. 

Neville disappeared up their dorm, and came back down holding Dean’s paints. Dean started painting a lion onto his face, when Hermione interrupted them. 

“Dean, can you draw?” she asked. She was straightforward, a trait some people didn’t like, but Dean liked honesty, and she’d been brought up by Muggles too. 

“I can,” he told her, finishing off Neville’s face and setting down his paints. 

Hermione held out a sheet. It was tattered and torn at the edges, but looked newly washed, apart from large letters inscribing ‘Potter for President’ in red ink. 

“You know Britain don’t actually have a president?” Dean asked, and Hermione rolled her eyes. 

“Yeah, but Ron insisted. I tried to explain, but he really doesn’t get Muggles,” Hermione told him, rolling her eyes. “Could you draw something on it?” 

Dean nodded. “Does it matter what colour?” he asked. 

“Black. It’s easier to enchant if it’s black,” Hermione told him, lifting her head slightly, like she did every time she explained something. 

Dean painted the Gryffindor lion onto it. Hermione swished and flicked over it, muttering under her breath, and the paint started to flash different colours, never reverting to the black that was there originally. Instead of being put out about the change of his creation, Dean watched it change colour with awe. 

“Holy shit,” he said, looking at it. Hermione laughed a little. 

“Magic is so cool,” she whispered to him, and he nodded reverently. 

Seamus wrapped his arms around them both. “Let’s go!” he shouted. Dean cringed away from Seamus screaming in his ear, and Hermione disentangled herself from Seamus’ grip. She picked up the poster, and they went out to the stands together. 

 

The stands were a loud screaming mess. Ron and Hermione were talking to Hagrid, while Dean was with the other Gryffindor first years present, Seamus’ arm still casually thrown around him while they cheered for their side. The cheers got louder when Harry suddenly dived, faster than anyone had moved on the field, everyone in the stands chanting. 

The cheers turned to hate when Marcus Flint, the other team’s Captain, knocked Harry out of his dive, almost knocking him off of his broom. Dean felt anger building up, so he shouted what he always did when players pissed him off, even when he was on their side. He hated cheaters. 

“Send him off, ref!” he yelled. “Red card!” He felt people looking at him strangely, except Fiona, who was also Muggle-born, and shouted her agreement.

“This isn’t football, Dean,” Ron told him. “You can’t send people off in Quidditch- and what’s a redcard?”

“They oughta change the rules,” Hagrid said, before Dean could reply. “Flint coulda knocked Harry out the air.” Even Lee Jordan, the supposedly impartial commentator, although no one really thought he was, wasn’t holding back his anger, letting it out through heavy sarcasm. The Gryffindor stands, loaded with Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws as well as the red house itself, had a dark atmosphere of annoyance. 

When Harry’s broom started jerking around, Dean thought it was part of the game. The stand hushed, almost silent, everyone talking amongst themselves, a dark contrast to a few minutes before, when everyone had been cheering in ungodly harmony. 

“What the fuck kind of sport is this?” Dean asked Seamus. Looking at Seamus he saw the boy’s frown of worry, and actually now he thought about, everyone’s whispered conversations were tinged with incredulity, and fear for the boy thousands of feet in the air. 

“This isn’t supposed to happen,” Seamus told him, confirming what Dean had already thought. “Someone’s sabotagin’ him, because Slytherin are filthy cheatin’ bastards,” Seamus said, yelling the last words. 

Hermione suddenly ran from the stands. 

“Where the fuck is she goin’,” Dean asked Ron. Ron shrugged his shoulders. 

“She just said ‘leave it to me’,” Ron told him. 

Dean scoffed. “What’s she going to do, Wingardium Leviosa it? I’m sure that will be incredibly effective.”

Seamus laughed beside him, but Ron frowned. “She’s the smartest in our year,” he sniped. 

Dean nodded. “I’m not arguing with that; she could whoop my arse. But she can’t fix a fucking defective broom, not when it’s a thousand feet above her.”

Ron just shook his head, and watched his best friend with worry, as he struggled to hold onto his broom. 

“Hey fuck look!” Seamus screamed, pointing at the teacher’s stands. There was a blue fire raging on Snape’s clothes. 

Up in the air, Harry’s broom had returned to normal, and Ron breathed in relief, smiling a little. Dean exchanged confused looks with Seamus. 

“Neville you can look up now,” Ron said, and Neville released Hagrid, whose coat he’d been crying into for the past five minutes. Hagrid hadn’t seemed to mind. 

Harry dived again suddenly, and the stands were united in yelling his name with encouragement. He seemed to choke before reaching the ground, and coughing into his hand. Something gold came out.

“Holy shit,” Seamus breathed, a millisecond before the crowd started cheering and Lee Jordan’s announcement came roaring out of his megaphone. 

“Harry Potter catches the Snitch! The cheating bastards- sorry Professor- lose, one hundred and seventy points to sixty!”

Seamus threw his arms around Dean in celebration, jumping up and down, still shouting and cheering. 

 

“Thomas!” McGongall called him over. Dean came over, followed by Seamus. 

“Yes, Professor?” he asked. Dean liked McGonagall. She reminded him a little of Hermione, not dallying around her words, getting straight to the point. 

“Are you staying over Christmas?” she asked him, her Scottish accent stronger than Fiona’s. 

Dean shook his head. “I’m goin’ home,” he told her. She nodded her head, and her eyes focused on Seamus behind him. 

“What about you, Mr Finnigan?” 

Dean turned around to see Seamus answer. Seamus had a trace of disappointment in his eyes, but he shook his head. 

“I was gonna, but I can’t any more, Professor,” he told her. She wrote something down, and moved away from the two.

“How come you’re goin’ home,” Seamus asked. Dean shrugged. 

“I wanna get back to normal for a bit. It’s bloody crazy here,” Dean said, shrugging. “And my brother and sisters miss me.” 

Seamus nodded, and his eyes brightened. “Are they magic?” he asked. 

Dean shook his head. “My mum reckons I get magic from my dad, so I doubt it.” 

Seamus hesitated for a minute. “So… Gonna meet up in Christmas? We got three weeks.”

Dean smiled. “Yeah, that’d be cool. Come to mine at some point.”

Seamus nodded enthusiastically. “Where do you live? Just tell me the address, I’ll get there.”

Dean told him the address, and the two went to the Great Hall, somehow feeling stress, stress they didn’t know they carried, relieve itself. 

 

Seamus wasn’t lying about visiting, but how he arrived almost made Dean wish he had been. 

It was a few days after Christmas. His brother had been watching T.V. in the living room, in front of the tree, beside their fireplace. It was a small fireplace, an actual wood burner. Dean had run in at his brother’s shout of his name, to see the unused fireplace lit up with green fire. 

“Bloody hell,” he muttered. The fire had burnt bigger, and two legs appeared in the small part of the fireplace they could see. They stepped forward, and suddenly Dean heard violent cursing as whoever it was walked into the wall. The legs bent, and a face appeared, with sandy hair darkened with ash, but a chipped tooth still glinting in a smile.

“Hullo Dean,” Seamus said. “Help me out, yeah?” 

“Mum there’s a person in the fireplace!” Dean’s brother shouted. 

By the time Dean had managed to extract Seamus from the fireplace, Dean’s entire family, mum, stepdad, two sisters, and of course his brother, were standing watching them. Dean took a deep breath before turning to them. 

“This is Seamus,” he said, smiling. His parents stood staring at them, slightly slack jawed. 

“Hi,” Seamus said, fidgeting a little, but still smiling. “Sorry if I ruined your carpet.” 

Dean’s mum shook herself out of her trance. “Hi Seamus, Dean didn’t say anyone was coming over.”

His stepdad nodded, seeming put out. “I would have done more cooking, all I’ve done is heat up what’s left from Christmas.”

Dean shrugged. “Sorry.”

His mum smiled at Seamus. “You’re from Hogwarts?” she asked. 

Seamus nodded. “I’m in Gryffindor,” he said, as though that meant anything to Dean’s family. Dean’s mum nodded, and smiled, but it was clear she had no idea what Seamus was talking about. 

“Is Dean in Gryffindor too?” his mum asked. 

Dean nodded, and tugged on Seamus’ top a little. “We’re going up to my room, because Seamus is a mess.”

His stepdad tutted. “Any mess, you’re cleaning it up,” he warned Dean.

Dean rolled his eyes, and pulled Seamus out of the room. 

 

Dean was at King’s Cross five minutes before twelve on the sixth of January. It was strange how much he had missed Hogwarts. And his friends. Seamus had come over a few times during the holidays, to the point where Dean’s parents were thinking about getting a bigger fireplace. One of Dean’s sisters had taken to Seamus, to the point where Dean had had to kick her out of his room more times than he liked. 

But he missed his other friends, missed Neville’s casual vulnerability; Ron’s complaining, Harry’s friendliness; missed Hermione’s way of seeming smarter than you, without being condescending; Lavender moaning about; Parvati’s insomnia; Cara’s incredible stories of stuff her sister had done (all absolute bullshit); and Fiona’s complaining about Hogwarts inconvenient rules (“the bloody castle is in Scotland, I shouldnae have tae travel all the way down to King’s Cross to get the bloody train back up again”). 

But he was waiting for the Platform to open, it was sealed until twelve o’clock, and left at one. 

“Oi! Thomas!” he heard Seamus yell. 

“Finnigan!” he hollered back. Seamus jogged over to where Dean was leaning on the barrier of the platform. 

Seamus laughed at him. 

“What?” Dean asked. 

“It’s almost twelve,” Seamus said. “And you’re leaning against the barrier-”

Dean didn’t hear the rest of what Seamus said, as he fell backwards through the barrier, hitting his head off the floor. “Fuck.”

Seamus walked through, his laughter filling the empty platform. Dean glared up at him, even when Seamus extended a hand to help him up. He took it grudgingly, and got up as more people came through, almost walking into the two boys. 

The train was there, shining as though it was freshly clean. Perks of being the only train traveling along a track. Dean and Seamus got on, and headed to find a compartment, not wanting to have to share. They were stopped by Neville, who had lost Trevor again. 

“That fucking frog better fucking hope it’s already dead if I’m the one who finds it,” Seamus muttered through gritted teeth. 

Dean shook his head, trying not to smile. “Trevor’s a toad, Seamus.”

Seamus almost growled. “After I’ve killed the bastard frog, I’m coming for you, smartarse.”

By the time Neville was reunited with his toad, the entire train had filled up, leaving Seamus, Dean and Neville looking desperately for a compartment. 

“Dean? Seamus?” they heard from behind them. They turned to find Hermione sticking her head out of a compartment. “Are you looking for a compartment?” 

“Hermy, I could kiss you,” Seamus said, almost running in, Dean and Neville following suit. 

Hermione scoffed. “I’ll take you calling me Hermione instead, thanks.”

Seamus winked at her, and sat down beside Dean, throwing his arm around him. “What’s the betting the trolley actually having food now?” 

“It had food in September,” Dean told him. 

“Not when it got to my compartment. Some bastards had eaten the lot.”

“I lost Trevor again,” Neville announced. 

Seamus threw his head back and groaned. 

“Who the fuck let you own a fuckin’ pet Neville?”

 

Harry, Ron and Hermione were nowhere to be seen. As fucking always. The three of them were always off talking to Hagrid, or fighting fucking trolls (Seamus wasn’t convinced that they actually had fought the troll, but Dean had the feeling it was exactly the stupid kind of thing they’d do). 

It always seemed to be Seamus and Dean left alone in the common room, sometimes with Neville accompanying them, but he was spending more time at the library, preparing for the exams they weren’t taking for another two months. 

Dean didn’t mind being left with Seamus, he liked it better when Neville wasn’t there. He wasn’t positive why he had such a strong preference for Seamus, but when it was just the two of them it relaxed him. Maybe it was because he knew the boy better, or maybe he was too worried about Neville accidentally killing himself with a quill as he watched, but whatever it was, he liked it. 

Seamus liked it too, Dean could tell. Neither of them sought the company of others, preferring to be alone. They didn’t protest when different first years sat with them, watching Parvati and Lavender argue about how little sleep Lavender was getting because Parvati couldn’t sleep properly when her twin wasn’t in the same room as her, was a hilarious experience, and Parvati’s sly comebacks were always appreciated. 

But the best thing was when the two sat, either talking or in comfortable silence, together, alone. 

 

Ron didn’t come back to the dorm on May 7th, because he was in the hospital wing. When Dean asked Harry why, he didn’t answer. Dean wasn’t sure if he wanted to know, the three were always pulling stupid shit, and Dean figured he was safest not getting involved. Seamus apparently didn’t agree, and kept asking Harry questions, until Harry snapped. This ended with Harry storming out the dorm and Dean calming Seamus down. 

“The three of them act as though they’re in some fuckin’ club together, like they’re so bloody important. I don’t like Malfoy, but he’s got it right about those three. They think they’re so cool, but Harry’s the youngest kid in our fucking year, the fucking school, near enough,” Seamus said grumpily. 

Dean nodded. He knew Seamus didn’t really think that, knew he was just frustrated at being left out. Dean kind of felt the same way, Harry, Ron and Hermione had their own little thing, an exclusive thing, and no one else was allowed. Neville was the closest, but he didn’t seem to care that Harry and Ron lied to him along with the rest of them. Harry came back later on, when the rest were in bed, Seamus lying beside Dean. It was a regular occurrence for them to sleep in the same bed, when they wanted to talk to each other, without interrupting anyone else, or when they just didn't want to sleep alone. Drawing the curtains around the bed allowed them some privacy, muffing their conversation, until it died out, the two slowly falling asleep side by side. 

 

Ron didn’t come back to the dorm for the next two days. On the second night, Harry left as well, taking the invisibility cloak that he thought Seamus and Dean didn’t know about, and Neville actually didn’t know about. Neville burst into the dorm, shaking. 

“We need to warn Harry and Hermione!” he yelled. “Malfoy’s gonna get them in trouble, he says they’ve got a dragon!”

Seamus laughed at him, which only made Neville more frantic. “I’m serious!” 

Dean smiled, despite himself. “Neville, Harry can take care of himself.”

Neville shook his head at them. “You’re not listening! We have to help them,” he said, determination lacing his tone. 

Seamus glanced at Dean, before shaking his head. “Neville, we’ll just get into trouble. The two of them will be okay.”  
Neville glared at them. “Fine, I’ll go by myself,” he said, scowling. 

Dean and Seamus watched him leave, eyebrows raised. They looked at each other, and started laughing. 

 

The next day they were not laughing. Gryffindor had lost a massive amount of points, one hundred and fifty fucking points. Their dorm had been solemn when they woke up, and when they found out why, Dean had to physically restrain Seamus from clawing out Harry’s eyes. He himself wasn’t happy either, and so tried to avoid Harry as much as possible. 

They didn’t blame Neville, the boy was too upset about letting down his house, and he was clear about what his intentions had been, to help Harry. But Harry wouldn’t tell them just exactly why he was out of his dorm, and Dean was starting to think Neville had been right about the dragon. 

It was something that Harry, Ron and Hermione would do. 

 

The next week, when Harry and Neville were out for detention, Ron was high on nerves. 

“What will they have to do?” he kept asking, even though it was clear neither Dean or Seamus had any clue. 

Dean had eventually kicked Seamus out the dorm for making snide comments about Harry. Ron fell asleep early, apparently he was exhausted, and when he did, Dean went down to get Seamus. He found him with the Gryffindor girls, bar Hermione of course. Seamus was laughing, and Dean felt put out that he wasn’t the cause of his laughter, and that he didn’t know what had made him laugh like that. 

But Seamus’ eyes lit up when he saw Dean, and that made him feel better. Seamus said something to the four girls, and came over to Dean. 

“Weasley’s asleep?” he asked.

Dean nodded. “We’d better be quiet,” he told him. Seamus nodded. 

The next morning Dean woke up with Seamus curled under his nose.

 

Dean and Seamus lay sprawled on the grass, revelling in the relief of having finished their last exam. They had made a promise not to talk about the exam after they’d taken it, and Dean was glad. Seamus, at least, had a basic grasp of the History of Magic, but Dean only knew what he had learnt that year, and it was hard for him to take in anything Professor Binns taught them, even when Seamus wasn’t distracting him. And Seamus did distract him. He'd probably done the worst in History of Magic, but he consoled himself with how well he thought he must’ve done in Transfiguration. 

Seamus propped himself up on his shoulders to watch Harry, Ron and Hermione running down to Hagrid’s hut. He sighed, tiredly. 

“There go all our house points,” he said to Dean, gesturing at the three. Dean propped himself up and watched them disappear. 

“Why do they keep doing stupid shit?” Dean asked. Seamus laughed beside him. 

“They’ll grow out of it,” he told Dean. 

When neither Harry, Ron or Neville were in the dorm again that night, Dean went over to Seamus’ bed. 

“This is our room,” he told the other boy. “The others are fucking guests. They should pay rent.”

Seamus nodded in agreement. “How many points do you think we’ll lose tonight?”

Dean muttered numbers under his breath to feign calculating. “I’d say around three hundred.” Seamus snorted. 

“Three hundred each, including bloody Hermione,” he said. 

Dean hmm’d his reply and turned onto his side. He was too tired to talk anymore, and so was Seamus from the way his voice had gotten deeper and his accent had thickened. They drifted asleep, unaware that Neville was trapped in a Full Body Bind in the common room, while Harry, Ron and Hermione risked their lives for the Philosopher’s Stone. 

They were, in a way, in a much more dangerous position.

 

Dean woke up to see the top of Seamus’ head. The other boy liked to submerge himself in the duvets, hogging them. Dean didn’t mind much, he always got too hot at night, especially with the other boy sharing a bed with him. But he put up with it, because being in the same bed as Seamus gave him a better sleep. 

He slowly got out of bed, closing the hangings behind him. Seamus could be late for breakfast, and, until exam results came out, classes would be fairly relaxed. He looked around the dorm and found, to his surprise, that all the beds were empty, hangings tied around the bed posts. Dean and Seamus had never woken to an empty dormitory before, no matter what stupid ass shit Ron and Harry had pulled during the night, they were always back before Dean woke up. 

He went down to the common room to find it empty. Most people would be in their dorms, and anyone else had gone to breakfast. He glanced around, and saw it, in fact, wasn’t empty. 

Neville was sleeping, in what looked like an incredibly uncomfortable way. He was lying on his back, legs pushed together, arms tucked in by his sides. When Dean got closer, the boy woke up, but didn’t move from that position. 

“Neville, what the fuck happened?” Dean asked. Neville didn’t answer, just widened his eyes. Dean frowned. 

“Did someone fucking body bind you?” he asked, feeling his eyes narrow in anger. Neville was vulnerable, and for someone to take advantage of that vulnerability was like someone hitting a child. 

Neville still couldn’t speak to answer, and the silence between them gave Dean his answer. He ran his hand over his head, trying not to shake or swear. 

“I don’t know the countercurse,” he muttered, getting angry with himself. “Why the fuck don’t I remember the bastard countercurse. Wait here Neville, shit, I’m going to get Seamus, he’ll know it.”

Dean didn’t wait for Neville not to answer, before turning away to run up to their dormitory. Seamus was awake, his hair flopping around his face, he needed it cut, Dean realised stupidly. 

“Do you know the countercurse?” he asked him, not specifying which one. Seamus smiled, confusion lighting his eyes. 

“What?” he asked, standing up. He took in Dean, probably dishevelled from sleep, with anger in his eyes. “What happened.”

Dean couldn’t get his words out fast enough, each stumbling over the one before it, a mess of anger and hate. “Someone fucking body binded, full fucking body binded Neville. He’s down in the common room, fuck what if he’s been there all night, who the fuck did this I’ll kill them, I swear to God, I’ll kill them.” Seamus’ eyes widened, and he pushed past Dean to run down to the common room. When Dean followed, he saw Neville curled into a ball, arms wrapped around himself. He stood there in silence, beside Seamus as they watched the boy freak out to himself. 

“Who did it?” Dean asked, softly, trying not to disturb the weeping boy. 

Neville looked up, eyes shining. “Harry, Ron and Hermione were leaving the common room. I tried to stop them, I didn’t want to lose any more points. They told me I couldn’t tell, that it was important, and I told them I didn’t care. Then Hermione cast this,” he said, gesturing at himself. Dean frowned. 

Hermione had done this? The girl who had always seemed to revel in her magic, making sure she would always manage to stay in the school. She had tainted magic? Dean saw magic as an expression of art, he was an artist, and he used his wand as one outlet for his creativity. To use it against someone, especially Neville, Neville, the boy who lost his toad every day, who had lost his Remembrall the week he got it, was a massive invasion. 

“Hermione,” he whispered, managing to say all his thoughts in one word. Neville nodded at him, tearfully. Dean looked at Seamus and saw his expression. He was thinking the same thing as Dean was. 

“She can’t have-” Dean started, but Hermione was the same age as him. She knew right and wrong. She had to. 

“They better have a fuckin’ good reason,” was all Seamus said, as the two helped Neville up to their dorm, telling him to stay there for the rest of the day. 

 

Hermione was the only one at breakfast, looking smaller than usual. She looked up when Dean and Seamus sat down next to her, but she looked so worried and scared neither of them could have yelled at her. Instead they sat in silence, until she spoke. 

“I’m sorry for what I did to Neville,” she told them. She looked up at them, tears filling her eyes. “I had to.”

Dean laughed a little. “Why was that?” he asked, the annoyed tone standing out more than he wanted it to.

“You have to promise not to tell anyone,” Hermione said, leaning forward across the table. Seamus and Dean looked at each other and nodded. 

They were finally getting included in Harry, Ron and Hermione’s club, however briefly. 

 

Dean and Seamus sat together the night before the final Quidditch match had been scheduled. No one thought it would happen now, the Seeker was comatose with no signs of waking up to save the day. There was no doubt that even if Gryffindor somehow scraped up a Seeker, that they would lose. 

The room was filled with Ron’s deep, slow breathing, Neville’s raspy snores, and Seamus and Dean’s quiet muttering, about what Hermione had told them. 

“It’s too crazy,” Seamus told Dean. “Too fuckin’ insane.”

Dean disagreed. “Nothing’s too insane here. Not even this. Fuckin’ Lord V could’ve been down there and I’d still believe it.”

Seamus nodded slightly. “If you believe Granger, then bloody Quirrell was working for fuckin' You-Know-Who this whole bloody year.” 

Dean shivered. “That’s scary,” he said. “Seamus, what if You-Know-How does come back? How bad would it be?”

Seamus shook his head. “It won’t happen,” he said, but he didn’t sound sure. 

“What if it does?” Dean asked. “He fuckin’ hates Muggle-borns, do you think I would be in danger?” 

Seamus sighed, and when Dean looked at him he saw tears in his eyes. Everyone was fucking crying recently, Dean thought bitterly, trying to ignore the tears in his own eyes. 

“I’d keep you safe,” Seamus promised. Dean knew that if it did happen, Seamus wouldn’t be able to protect him, but he felt better with the boy’s promise. 

“Thank you,” Dean told him. It wasn’t just for the promise, it was for the whole year. It was for being his friend, his guide through his transition into the wizarding world. This whole year had had Seamus’ help, without him Dean would have been lost. 

 

When Dumbledore finished his speech, giving Neville ten house points, both Dean and Seamus piled onto him. They screamed, they cheered, they shouted together, so happy, so proud that they’d won. They’d beaten Slytherin, the once emerald banners a bright red colour. 

When the hall quietened again, Dean leaned forward to Neville, brightly smiling, the happiest Dean had ever seen him. 

“Only ten? What you did was worth at least what Ron and Hermione got. You got robbed,” Dean told him, and Neville seemed to smile brighter. Dean leaned back so he was sitting right next to Seamus, almost pressing into the other boy. 

 

On the last night of first year, the twentieth of July, none of the five in their dormitory slept. They sat on their beds, talking to each other, clinging onto their first year.  
They were all sat on their own beds, except Seamus, who was on Dean’s bed. No one seemed to notice that he didn’t go back to his own, and Dean didn’t know why he was so aware of that. 

They passed around the sweets Harry had been sent (“You should go into a bloody coma more often, Harry”), seeing who could take the worst Bertie Bott, putting their chocolate frogs against each other, and betting liquorice wands on the outcome. 

It ended with the five sleeping with uncomfortably full stomachs.

 

On the Hogwarts Express home, their carriage was full. Ten kids were squashed into the six seater, all the Gryffindor first years. Harry was next to the window, craning his neck so he didn’t miss his last image of Hogwarts. Ron and Hermione sat next to him, Ron mocking Harry’s expression, making Hermione laugh. Lavender and Parvati sat opposite each other, talking about the summer and meeting up. Neville sat beside Parvati, talking to Cara and Fiona who were sitting at Ron and Hermione’s legs, leaning against each other. Seamus sometimes joined in the conversation, but Dean was too busy taking in his companions. 

Maybe Harry would miss the magic, the lessons, the feeling of Hogwarts, but Dean would miss the feeling of family he had at Hogwarts. He loved his brother and both his sisters, but it was different. He was connected to these people by magic. Actual fucking magic. They would never have met if Dean hadn’t received that letter.

He glanced at Seamus beside him and smiled. Maybe this was better than an art school.


	2. The Chamber of Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> second year feat. terror, laughter and a touch more swearing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes it has been almost two years, no i never gave up

A year ago, this room was in silence, broken by four sleeping boys’ breathing and one boy’s nervous thoughts. A year, ago the only light in the room was the light traced by the moon. A year ago, only one boy was awake, surrounded by strangers. A year ago, the five had barely exchanged five words with each other. 

This year, the room was filled with laughter. This year, every light in the room was alive and brightening, cutting out the necessity of the moon’s pathetic light. This year, all of the boys were awake, bright eyed and excited to see each other, connected in a way they hadn’t been a year ago. 

“A flying car!” Seamus kept repeating, beaming from where he was sitting on his bed. Neville had eyes wide with shock, and kept shaking his head. 

Harry and Ron were sitting on Harry’s bed, retelling the story again, Ron’s arm slung over Harry’s shoulder casually, beaming around the room. Dean was watching with amusement from where he was sitting slightly behind Seamus. 

“The car actually flew?” Dean had asked, the first time he heard the story. Harry and Ron nodded emphatically. 

“We’d already used it see, to get Harry out of his uncle’s, so I knew how to drive it,” Ron told him. Dean stared. 

“Is that legal?” he asked, amazed. He was pretty sure that was counted as kidnapping in some way. 

Ron just laughed. “The uncle sure didn’ think so, right Harry?”

Harry beamed. “He almost fell out the window!” he said, laughing again. Dean wasn’t sure what exactly Harry’s home situation was, but if the boy could look so happy about his uncle falling out a window, it must be bad. 

Even when the lights faded out, and the boys’ laughter quietened, replaced by quiet talking, the room felt fuller than last year. 

A year ago, Dean had felt alone. This year, he slept in a room with four close friends, in the same bed as his best friend, who stole all his covers, and stuck his cold feet in under Dean’s legs. It was perfect. 

 

The next morning at breakfast, Dean was reminded just how crazy life at Hogwarts was. He and Seamus were sitting away from Ron, so they didn’t see the letter he was sent. But they heard it. There was an explosion of noise, an angry rant spitting in Ron’s face, shaking the room with pure rage. 

Dean and Seamus glanced at each other, both with delighted shocked expressions. “What the hell is that?” Dean half shouted at Seamus, over Ron’s mother’s voice. 

“It’s a Howler,” Seamus yelled back, laughter still lighting up his features. He looked good like that, Dean realised. Not in an obvious way, Seamus wasn’t traditionally handsome. But there was something about him that grabbed Dean’s attention. Dean shook his head to snap himself out of it. 

Seamus frowned at him. “What?” he asked. The Howler had stopped raging at Ron, letting the hall fill the silence it left with the chatter of hundreds of students. 

“Just forgot how fuckin’ insane this place is,” Dean answered, smiling. “Did you ever get a Howler?”

Seamus paled slightly. “I don’t wanna talk about it,” he muttered. Dean spluttered with laughter. 

“What’d you do?” he asked. 

Seamus looked down at his -full- plate. “Right, I’m done. Gotta get to class, bye,” he said, quickly. Dean raised his eyebrow and followed his friend, grabbing some toast for when Seamus inevitably started complaining about how hungry he was. Never let anyone say Dean didn’t look out for Seamus. 

 

Gilderoy Lockhart was a legend. He had fought trolls, werewolves, ghouls and, in Dean’s opinion, that more than qualified him to teach Defence Against the Dark Art, at least to second years. Dean had been looking forward to the lesson, after reading the man’s books he had decided this would be an upgrade from Quirrell- who hadn’t been a bad teacher, unless you believed the rumours that he had had Voldemort welded to the back of his head for the entire year. Dean did, most of the time. 

He’d had fairly high expectations for the class, he and Seamus discussing brightly what it could entail. But he’d never thought that he would be sitting at his desk, beside Seamus, as his teacher gave a quiz on himself. He was lost, he’d focused more on how Lockhart had dealt with the beasts, rather than the little details he had included. In fact, he’d skipped the rambling parts, not seeing them as particularly important to his education. 

Apparently, Lockhart didn’t agree. Dean was starting to think his high expectations for the class were misplaced, until Lockhart started to go over the answers. Then Dean knew. 

After Lockhart winked for the third time, Dean couldn’t hold back his laughter. He was shaking, trying not to make any noise, and when he looked at Seamus he saw the other boy in a similar state. This class that everyone had been anticipating, had been a massive joke. 

Lockhart bestowed praise on Hermione, giving her the ‘Witch Weekly’s Most-Charming-Smile Award five-time winner’, which he’d mentioned several times. He didn’t seem to notice Dean and Seamus’ silent fits, in which they were joined by others in the class. 

“And so, to business,” Lockhart said, after awarding Gryffindor for Hermione’s strange amount of knowledge on his life. He reached below his desk, and brought out a covered cage. Dean glanced at Seamus frowning slightly, but Seamus was looking at the cage with curiosity and didn’t notice. 

“Now - be warned!” Lockhart announced. “It is my job to arm you against the foulest creatures known to wizardkind! You may find yourself facing one of your worst fears in this very room.” The spectacle would have been funny, if Dean wasn’t feeling faintly sick at the prospect of whatever was in the cage. If Lockhart was scared, it must be bad. The man was a prat, but he knew what he was talking about, his books were proof of that.

“Know only that no harm can befall you whilst I am here,” Lockhart continued, reassuring Dean slightly. Slightly. “All I ask is that you remain calm. I must ask you not to scream, it may provoke them.” Them? Dean wasn’t denying he was freaked out a little by his teacher’s words, but it wasn’t a particularly big cage. 

Lockhart pulled the cover off the cage with a flourish. It was filled with tiny blue people. They were no bigger than ten inches, with drastically sharp features. They screamed with high voices, so shrill Dean could feel the blood in his ears, rattling the bars loudly, giving an echo to the terrible symphony. 

“Yes,” Lockhart said, dramatically. “Freshly caught Cornish pixies.”

Dean heard Seamus burst into laughter beside him. He couldn’t help but grin along. Maybe the man was just a prat. Lockhart smiled at them, but he looked annoyed. 

“Yes?” he asked, still smiling. 

“Well they’re not — they’re not very — dangerous, are they?” Seamus said, choking on his laugh. 

Lockhart wagged his finger at Seamus, which only made his laugh more violent. “Don’t be so sure,” he told him. “Devilish tricky little blighters they can be! Right then, let’s see what you make of them.”

Dean frowned, it almost looked like he was going to—

Lockhart opened the cage, unleashing the pixies on the class. Seamus grabbed Dean’s arm, and dragged him under the desk, Dean in too much shock to do anything but comply. 

“He’s fucking insane,” he heard Seamus mutter. The two heard Lockhart giving out instructions to the class, telling them how to deal with the pixies, but from what Dean could see, no one was listening, let alone following his guidance. 

Most of their class was under their desks. The classroom was in a state, with broken windows, ink everywhere and desks upended. Neville was dangling from the candelabra on the ceiling, although Dean hadn’t seen how he got up there. 

Lockhart shouted a spell, his tone almost making it into a song. It was probably a very impressive, complicated piece of magic, but one that had absolutely no effect on the pixies. One pixie grabbed Lockhart’s wand and throw it out the window. Lockhart ducked to avoid the pixies flying at his face.

There was a crash as the candelabra gave way, and landed where Lockhart had been standing moments before. 

The bell rang suddenly, and Dean and Seamus didn’t wait to run out of the classroom as fast as they could. Once they’d gotten far enough away that they couldn’t hear the sound of the immense chaos emitting from the classroom, they stopped and leaned against a wall, panting heavily. 

Dean glanced at Seamus and Seamus looked back. The two held their breath for a moment, before bursting into laughter. Not silent this time, they filled the corridor with bellows of laughter. 

“He — The pixies — Out the window,” Dean panted, unable to stop laughing to choke out the words. 

Seamus laughed a little harder. “That escalated— quickly,” he said. 

For the rest of the day, the two just had to look at each other to start laughing again. 

 

Halloween this year was a lot less eventful than last year. By this point, the old Defence Professor had burst in and fainted, after proclaiming wildly about a troll, rumoured to have been let in by the Professor himself. Harry, Ron and Hermione hadn’t shown up, but Dean wasn’t exactly surprised that they were absent from a school event, especially not Halloween. He just hoped they didn’t do something too big or lose too many house points. 

Seamus kept pulling at Dean’s face to make him look scarier for the first years watching, Ginny Weasley among them. Dean hit at his hands, and made a show of pushing him off to make the first years laugh. 

“Where’s your brother, Ginny?” he asked, when he’d had enough of Seamus yanking at his face and Seamus had started doing the same thing to a first year instead, trying to make Colin laugh again. 

Ginny shrugged. “I don’t know. He’s always off with Harry and Hermione.”

“You’re right there,” Dean nodded, and yanked Seamus off the first year he was terrorising. “Let the kid eat, you bastard,” he said, shaking his head at his best friend. “Sorry, Colin, I swear he’s six, not twelve.” Seamus fake pouted, and threw his arm around Dean. 

“Don’ listen to Dean, he just hates me,” Seamus said to Colin, still pouting. Dean laughed and shook him off. 

“You act like my stepdad when he’s had too much,” Dean told him. Neither of them noticed Ginny walking away, out of the Great Hall, too busy laughing at each other. 

They noticed when she sat back down, hands deep in her pockets. She looked panicked and scared, her hair messier than when she left. 

“You okay, Gin?” Dean asked. 

Ginny snapped her head up. “I’m fine,” she muttered. “Just a bad time of the month.” 

Dean looked away quickly, not wanting any more information. Girls tended to rant a bit about their ‘time of the month’s, and Dean didn’t need the details. He saw Seamus looking a little queasy next to him, having heard the reply. 

They forgot all about Ginny coming back in when they found the writing on the wall. Malfoy’s cry of “you’re next, mudbloods” had made Seamus wrap his arm around Dean protectively, and glare at Harry, Ron and Hermione, who of course had been found on the scene before anyone else got there. 

Dean didn’t appreciate the glaring, but Seamus’s show of protection calmed the chill that went down his spine at Malfoy’s words. 

 

Professor Binns’ classes were incredibly boring. Dean, who usually found everything about the wizarding world magical — when he’d voiced that particular thought to Seamus, Seamus had thrown ‘Year with a Yeti’ at his head with good aim — couldn’t help but doze off a little in his class. He sat beside the window, and it wasn’t his fault if the rain tracing patterns down the glass was a more interesting prospect than Binns’ droning voice. 

Hermione’s voice suddenly rang out through the class, shocking Dean out of his stupor. “I was wondering if you could tell us anything about the Chamber of the Secrets.”

The class stirred at her words, their curiosity about what had happened to Mrs Norris beating away their sleep. Binns merely blinked in surprise, probably because someone had actually asked him a question about the ‘History of Magic’. 

“My subject is History of Magic,” he told the class, the same way he would if he was telling them how many goblins were present for the signing of the ‘Bill of Goblin Rights’. “I deal with facts, Miss Granger, not myths and legends.” He cleared his throat, before continuing his lecture. 

Dean’s eyes had drifted back to the window, when Binns was interrupted by Hermione’s hand in the air again. 

“Miss Grant?” he asked. Hermione didn’t correct him again. 

“Please, sir, don’t myths and legends always have a basis in fact?”

Professor Binns suddenly had a different expression than the one he’d probably worn since he died, if not before. 

“Well, yes, one could argue that, I suppose,” Binns said, slowly and carefully. “However, the legend of which you speak is such a very sensational, even ludicrous, tale. . .”

This was probably the most attention a class had ever paid to Binns, alive or dead, Dean thought, glancing around the room. Everyone was waiting for him to continue his story. The professor himself was clearly in shock that so much attention was being paid to him. 

“Oh very well, let me see,” he said, slowly. “The Chamber of Secrets. . .” 

Seamus twisted slightly in his seat beside Dean, and Dean could tell by a glance at him, he was giving Binns all his attention. If Dean wasn’t concentrating on what Binns was saying, he might have thought about how looking concentrated suited Seamus, but as he was entirely wrapped up in the discussion, he left that realisation for another day. 

 

On the ninth of November, the school was alight with rumour. A Gryffindor first year, Colin Creevey, had been Petrified, and despite the teachers trying to keep it quiet everyone knew. People were panicking, especially Neville. Seamus shook his head at the people selling amulets and protections, but it was half hearted. 

Dean was beyond scared. This monster was going after people like him, brought up in a Muggle home. He stuck close to Seamus, which wasn’t hard as the other refused to let him out of his sight. Seamus was frightened as well. 

Dean had asked him why he was so scared. “The monster won’t come after you,” he told Seamus. 

Seamus just looked at him. “It could come after you,” he had replied. Dean had felt touched by the boy’s words, but he knew he would feel the same way if it was Seamus who was in potential danger. 

Now, at the end of the day, with Seamus sitting in bed with him, Dean was free to panic. He cried a little, onto Seamus’ shoulder, but just for a second. 

“I don’t want to die,” he told Seamus, whispering, trying not wake anyone else. Seamus had his arm around him, and tightened his grip as Dean spoke. 

“Wanna go to mine now? Mam wouldn’ mind,” he said. Dean shook his head. 

“Pro’bly a good idea,” Seamus mused. “Mam wouldn’ like it.” 

Dean laughed, or tried to. Seamus loosened his grip slightly as they kept talking, but didn’t move his arm. Dean fell asleep next to Seamus, closer than usual, Seamus’ arm still around his shoulders.

 

Dean hadn’t put his name on the list of people staying at Hogwarts over Christmas the week before, he wasn’t staying in the castle any longer than he had to. Seamus hadn’t put his name down either, and was constantly berating Dean to come home with him instead of going to his own home. 

“Tell your mam you’re stayin’ here,” Seamus told him, over and over. Dean refused each time. 

“Why d’you want me to go with you so bad?” he asked. Seamus looked away. 

“No reason,” he muttered. Dean knew exactly why Seamus wanted him to go to his. The day before, at Duelling Club, Seamus had been freaked out by Harry ‘talking’ to the snake. Honestly, Dean had thought it looked kind of stupid. But the snake had stopped his advance afterwards, clearly, so if Harry could speak to snakes- which Dean doubted- he wasn’t trying to hurt Justin. 

Seamus wasn’t one of the people who genuinely thought Harry was the heir of Slytherin, whenever the conversation was brought up around him, he’d dismiss it immediately, telling whoever it was that ‘he’d know if he was sleeping next to the bloody heir of Slytherin’.

But the Parsletongue thing had made him wary around Harry, which Dean found ridiculous. Harry wasn’t the brightest kid. Sure, he’d defeated Voldemort, and stopped Quirrell doing whatever he was doing last year, but he was hardly a mastermind. Dean would have felt safer if he’d believed Harry to be the Heir. 

Dean knew Seamus wanted Dean to go to his house over Christmas to protect him. Dean thought that was extraordinarily stupid, even for Seamus. They’d had the same education for their one and a half years in Hogwarts, and they couldn’t do magic outside school. Not to mention the monster probably couldn’t even leave the castle. He told Seamus so himself. 

“Y’know, if anythin’ does happen over Christmas, you won’ be able to stop it?” 

Seamus nodded, almost guiltily, like he hadn’t expected Dean to figure it out. “Yeah, but me mam will be able to do somethin’,” he told Dean. 

Dean sighed. “It would make you feel better?” he asked. Seamus nodded enthusiastically. 

“I’ll owl home tomorrow, you bastard,” he told Seamus, whose face lit up.

“Really?” he asked. It was Dean’s turn to nod, but he rolled his eyes at Seamus while he did so. 

The other boy didn’t seem to notice. He looked relieved, like there was a load off his back. Though he hadn’t wanted to, Dean was glad he’d agreed to go with Seamus, just because of his reaction. 

“I’m goin’ home on Christmas Eve,” he warned Seamus. 

“I’ll come with yah,” Seamus said. Dean scoffed. 

“On Christmas?” he asked. 

Seamus smiled. “Yeah, celebrate with the Muggles.” Dean pushed his shoulder, pretending to be annoyed. 

“Mum’ll be pleased,” he told Seamus. “She likes you.” 

Seamus’ eyes widened. “I didn’ think she did.”

Dean nodded, but before he said anything, they were interrupted by Neville. His rotting newt tail had reacted badly with his skin, and he needed help fixing it. 

 

The next day when Justin Finch-Fletchey was found, beside Nearly-Headless Nick, both of them Petrified, Dean was even more relieved to be going home with Seamus. Seamus was relieved too. He became more protective, always touching Dean, whether it was only their shoulders brushing together as they walked, or him casually slinging an arm around Dean. 

Even in Transfiguration, Seamus had one hand on Dean’s arm, refusing to let go. Not that Dean minded. 

 

Christmas morning was quiet. The night before Dean’s parents had welcomed them, his stepdad fussing over Seamus, his little sister following him around, and asking him questions about magic- when Dean had tried to talk about magic over the summer, the same sister had told him to piss off several times- just pestering him. Seamus had answered all her questions with ease, keeping his hand on Dean’s arm. 

But Christmas morning was quiet, as quiet as a day in Dean’s house could be. Dean lay awake in the morning, trying not to move and break the silence. The slightest thing could wake his brother, who shared his room, or Seamus, who was lying asleep next to him. 

The house started to stir, beginning with Dean’s baby sister- she had been born during the summer and was an absolute horror in the morning- waking everyone up with screams of hunger. Seamus started awake, sitting up suddenly, waking Dean’s brother, who’d learnt to sleep through the baby alarm clock. 

Dean sat up, and laughed at the look on Seamus’ face. Seamus leant in close. 

“Dean, I don’t wanna alarm you, but your baby sister’s a fucking demon,” he told Dean. Dean jerked away a little. 

“Your morning breath is worse than any fucking demon,” he replied, making his brother laugh. 

“Don’t get me started on you, brat,” he directed at his brother, which just made him laugh more. Dean cracked a smile. 

“Merry Christmas, brat,” Dean told his brother. “Go wake up everyone.” Dean’s brother ran out the room, and Dean and Seamus could hear him in the room beside them. 

Dean turned to Seamus, and raised his eyebrows. Seamus was jumping a little on the bed his eyes wide. “Mate?” 

“Muggle Christmas,” Seamus whispered, reverently. Dean shook his head. 

“You dead excited?” he asked, sarcastically. 

Seamus hesitated, then leaned in. “Can I meet Santa Claus?” he asked. 

Dean threw back his head in laughter, until he noticed Seamus wasn’t laughing with him. 

“Are you bloody serious?” he asked. Seamus nodded hesitantly. 

“Seamus, I hate to tell you, but Santa Claus ain’t real,” Dean said, trying not laugh. Seamus looked shocked. 

“But…. All the Muggle-borns talk about him,” he said. 

Dean stared at him, incredulously. “He’s a lie to make kids behave around Christmas. And sometimes the rest of the year.”

Seamus shook his head. “You mean your parents lie to you?” 

“Yeah, till you eventually get smart and figure out he ain’t real,” Dean told him. “You still fucking believe in Santa Claus?” 

“No one told me he wasn’t real!” Seamus defended. 

“Seamus, do you think a fat man in a red suit really delivers presents to all the good Muggle boys and girls, travelling in a sleigh pulled by flying fucking reindeers?” Dean asked. 

Seamus looked nonplussed. “I guess…… No.” 

Dean shook his head at him. “You’re hopeless,” he tutted, and Seamus shrugged. 

“I’m a fucking wizard,” Seamus pointed out. “He could be magic.” 

Dean shook his head. “Do you want to debate Santa Claus’ existence? ‘Cause I would beat your ass.”

Seamus moved closer on the bed. “Maybe I do,” he said. 

Dean moved closer too, opening his mouth to start, when his brother and sisters appeared at the door. 

“Seamus?” the oldest girl asked. She loved Seamus, following him and Dean around whenever Seamus came over. She was currently looking at her brother with narrowed eyes, staring pointedly at how little space was between him and Seamus. 

Dean jumped off the bed. “Presents?” 

 

Two weeks after the Christmas holidays, and the beast hadn’t attacked again. No one thought it was over, with Ernie MacMillan, a Hufflepuff Muggle-born Dean had never heard of, preaching his views on Harry being the Heir. Dean would have found people shying away from Harry hilarious, if he hadn’t been so paranoid of the monster showing up to kill him. 

Harry didn’t seem to particularly notice the whispers around him, or Peeves’ pop ups where he would break into a song and dance routine (Dean had seen him teaching it to first years too terrified to refuse). Harry appeared to not notice these things, instead whispering with Ron and Hermione, staying in the common room until late. Fiona had told him that Hermione had been out late too, and expressed her hope that they were thinking of a way to get rid of Slytherin’s monster. 

“They could be a little less suspicious,” Dean said, shaking his head. “They really don’t help themselves.” 

Seamus threw an arm around Dean, pulling him closer. He’d been initiating less contact between the two, which meant there had been less contact. Dean had grown so accustomed to Seamus not taking a hand off him, it slipped his mind now to throw an arm around his best friend. 

“You’re awful quiet,” Seamus told him, poking his face, trying to rob his attention from his book.

Dean hit his hand away. “You bored or what, mate?” 

Seamus sighed. “The first years don’t like my jokes anymore,” he told Dean sorrowfully. 

“Maybe if you got some more,” Dean suggested, not looking up. “The reruns get old.”

“Shut it,” Seamus muttered. Dean tried not to laugh, as he sneaked a glance at Seamus. He was pouting slightly. Dean elbowed him, and he retracted his arm, shuffling down the sofa they shared. Dean immediately missed the warmth Seamus had. 

“I’m not gonna apologise for the truth,” Dean told him. 

Seamus fake-frowned, but Dean could see the smile in his eyes. “We’re no longer friends,” he proclaimed, waving a hand dramatically. 

Dean rolled his eyes, and returned to his textbook. It didn’t take long for Seamus to wrap his arm back around him and lean on him, but Dean didn’t mind. 

 

Valentine’s Day brought with it Lockhart’s attempts at making the school smile again. Dean took one look at the overly bright Great Hall, and started laughing loudly, almost falling into Seamus beside him. 

As Lockhart took to his ‘stage’ and announced with a flourish the singing gnomes, Seamus leant into Dean. 

“Do you think you’ll be making use of the ‘friendly card-carrying cupids’?” he asked, laughing a little. 

Dean sniggered. “You know me, I’m always out for a little luck with the ladies,” he winked. He immediately knew that somehow his response had been wrong, when Seamus’ face fell slightly. 

It felt as though something had shaken, even when Seamus’ smile returned. 

That night Seamus didn’t sneak into Dean’s bed. Dean was alone, staring at the top of his four poster regretting wildly his response at breakfast, even if he wasn’t sure why. 

 

The next morning Seamus was back to normal. Dean was hesitant to join in with his jokes, but Seamus soon proved he wasn’t going to back off again, and Dean relaxed. 

He didn’t bring it up himself, but in the commonroom that night, just the two of them Seamus did. 

“I’m sorry about yesterday,” Seamus said casually, fitting it into a lull in the conversation. “I just- I don’t know what happened.” 

“It’s okay,” Dean said, not wanting to think about it. Seamus nodded, and the conversation moved on, but everything seemed alright again. The stress Dean had accumulated rolled off his shoulders, and he adjusted himself to relax onto the couch. 

That night Dean went to Seamus’s bed instead, and whatever had shifted on Valentine’s day fell back into place. 

 

“Dean, we need your face paint,” Seamus yelled up to the dorm from the common room. 

Dean grabbed them, quickly smearing stripes onto his face before taking them down. “Who’s first and for what?” They queued up quietly, the edge of excitement humming over them. 

“We’re going to win, I can feel it,” Seamus announced. Neville nodded next to him but Dean scoffed. 

“Against Hufflepuff? They’ve been playing good this year,” he argued, finishing Neville’s face and pulling Seamus closer to do his.

“Yeah but they’re also convinced our Seeker wants to kill all of their Muggle-borns,” Seamus said, showing off his chipped tooth with his small smile. “We just need to use their fear against them.” 

“Diabolical,” Dean muttered, swiping over and round Seamus’ eye. Seamus smiled again, just for Dean, closing his eyes to make it easier. 

“How exactly are we supposed to instil fear from the stands, Seamus?” Fiona asked, shaking her head slightly. 

Seamus turned slightly, causing Dean to swear and hit out to get him to turn back round. He raised an eyebrow in apology before replying. “We just gotta shout really loudly,” Seamus said. “Maybe hiss a little.” He stepped back as Dean finished painting over his face. 

“So, we’re going to win against Hufflepuff by hissing together,” Dean asked, packing his paints away. 

“It’s called unity, Thomas,” Seamus said. “If we hiss together, we can’t lose.”

Fiona started smiling. “You’re an idiot, you know that Finnigan?” 

“Says the Scot,” Seamus said, winking at her. Dean felt a little uncomfortable as their conversation continued, the two seemed wrapped up in each other as they walked down to the Quidditch field. He felt uncomfortably like he and Neville were just tagging along with the other two as they went down. 

Seamus didn’t seem to notice Dean’s discomfort, continuing to laugh with Fiona on their walk, but when they took their seats in the stands he opted for one between Neville and Dean, leaving Fiona with the other Gryffindor girls. Dean relaxed a little, but he didn’t know why. 

The two teams came out onto the field to much cheering, and in Seamus’s case a weird mix of cheers and hissing. He nudged Dean to try and get him to join in, but when Dean stuck to cheering he wheedled a couple half-hearted hisses out of Neville. Dean cuffed the back of his head lightly and cheered as Oliver Wood flew nearby on a warm up. 

The game looked ready to start, when McGonagall rushed onto the pitch, a purple megaphone held high in front of her. She looked out of breath, and her hat was almost off her head, with her robes hastily done up. 

“This match has been cancelled,” she announced into the megaphone, to boos from the audience. Seamus hissed a little under his breath, but Dean ignored it, leaning forward as though it would help him hear the explanation that never came. 

The audience started slowly leaving, but Dean remained seated, watching through Seamus’s binoculars as McGonagall stormed off with Harry, Ron following close behind. 

“Where’s Hermione,” he muttered. 

Seamus nudged him. “What’s wrong?” 

Dean lowered the binoculars but didn’t look away from the two boys escorted by McGonagall. “I think something happened to Hermione,” he said, louder. 

“Fuck,” said Seamus. 

 

Dean and Seamus didn’t have chance to speak to Harry and Ron that night. But the common room was loud with gossip and theories. By the time Harry and Ron came back in, trailing Professor McGonagall, everyone knew that there had been another monster attack. Dean and Seamus sat together, with the other third years, none of them quite ready to face the knowledge that it was Hermione who had been Petrified this time. 

The room was silent as McGonagall confirmed this and gave them the names of the students involved. The silence strengthened when Hermione’s name was uttered. Dean shrank closer to Seamus. McGonagall remained strong as she read through the new rules, and she didn’t falter before she rolled up her parchment. 

When she spoke again, she sounded choked up. “I need hardly add that I have rarely been so distressed. It is likely the school will be closed unless the culprit behind these attacks is caught. I would urge anyone who thinks they might know anything about them to come forward.” 

She left and everyone started to shout. Lee Jordan started on a rant about the houses involved — “The heir of Slytherin, the monster of Slytherin, — why don’t they just chuck out all the Slytherins?” — and amidst the worry and wonder and gossip, Dean almost didn’t notice Harry and Ron whispering to each other. 

He turned his head so his mouth was at Seamus’s ear. “What do you think they’re talking about?” 

Seamus looked over. “Can’t imagine what it was like seeing her,” he responded. “They’re probably scared.” 

Dean watched them for a bit longer. He tried to think himself into their position, with Seamus the one lying stiff and unresponsive. He shivered, and Seamus moved his arm slightly to allow him closer. 

“At least no one’ll suspect Harry anymore,” Dean muttered. Seamus hummed. 

 

The next morning Harry and Ron were quiet. All the way down to breakfast. Silence. Dean put it down to Hermione’s current state. 

“Bet they didn’t sleep,” he muttered to Seamus. 

Seamus nodded, side eyeing the two boys. “They snuck out.” 

“To see Hermione?” Dean asked. 

Seamus shrugged. “Why else?” 

 

When they got to the Great Hall there was new news. Dumbledore had gone. Dean felt new fear stealing over him. 

“Fuck,” breathed Seamus. “Someone doesn’t want the school to stay open.”

“Let’s just get to Transfiguration,” Dean muttered. He wasn’t hungry anymore. 

 

Arriving in Transfiguration came with more bad news, when McGonagall, ten minutes into the lesson, reminded them of their exams starting at the end of June. The whole class stared at her in shock. 

“Exams?” Seamus shouted. “We’re still getting _exams_?” Neville’s wand slipped, vanishing a leg of his chair, and he ended up landing on the floor with a bang. Dean shrank into his seat a little. 

McGonagall waved her wand, fixing Neville’s chair, and with the same movement turned to frown over her glasses at Seamus. “The whole point of keeping the school open at this time is for you to receive your education,” she said, sharply. “The exams will therefore take place as usual, and I trust you are all revising hard.” 

Dean groaned, and Seamus swore under his breath. The sentiment was echoed across the classroom. McGonagall’s expression darkened. “Professor Dumbledore’s instructions were to keep the school running as normally as possible. And that, I need hardly point out, means finding out how much you have learnt this year.”

Dean caught Ron’s eye as he brandished his wand and shook his head. He smiled a little, despite himself, as Ron’s butchered wand started whistling. 

Seamus huffed beside him. 

 

The breakfast announcement almost a week later, that Petrified students would be awoken soon shifted the weight from Dean’s shoulders. 

“Next stop, exam’s cancelled,” Seamus muttered, when the cheering had subsided. 

“Cheer up,” Dean said, poking his shoulder. “Just imagine how Hermione’s going to feel when she wakes up. She’s not revised at all.”

“She’ll still get full marks,” Seamus muttered, darkly. 

Dean left him to glower to himself for a while. 

 

Later that day, the small relief Dean had gained at breakfast was ripped away from him. 

They were back in History of Magic. Harry and Ron hadn’t shown up, after convincing Lockhart to let them go alone to class. The period had been spent with the class forcing themselves to listen to Binns in preparation for their exam in around three days. 

It was when the bell was about to go for break, that the announcement came over the air from McGonagall. 

“All students to return to their house dormitories at once. All teachers return to the staff room. Immediately, please.”

Dean glanced at Seamus, who was already looking at him. Wordlessly they walked out the classroom together, their hands brushing against each other. 

 

Waiting in the common room was a nightmare. They sat apart from their peers. 

“I’m never leaving this room,” Dean decided. “We can live here.”

“Speak for yourself,” Seamus said. “I’m choosing the dorm.” 

“Fuck no,” Dean said. “There are curtains up there. The monster can hide behind those.”

“No good-sized monster is hiding behind a curtain,” Seamus said. “You could take something small enough for that.” 

“A smart monster would be able to hide behind a curtain,” Dean said, starting to smile.

Seamus mused for a second. “A smart monster would kill his victims.”

“Don’t say that,” Dean muttered, suddenly nervous. “What if that’s why we’ve been sent here?”

Seamus swallowed sharply. “Then Hogwarts is going to shut.”

 

McGonagall came in soon, after the announcement to tell them that they’d be sent home in the morning. Seamus reached his hand out for Dean’s. Dean let him take it. 

“To your dormitories now,” she ordered, “and don’t any of you think about wandering the castle, it is far too dangerous.” 

Dean, Seamus and Neville climbed the stairs to their dorm. Neville was sniffing a little. 

“Cheer up,” Seamus said to him. 

“Yeah, no good monster’s going to be hiding behind the curtains,” said Dean. 

Neville looked up at them. “It’s not that — Harry and Ron never came back.” 

Dean and Seamus looked at each other. “Fuck,” Seamus whispered. 

“It’s fine,” Dean said, mostly to himself. “Ron is pureblood and Harry is half. They’re probably safe in the hospital wing with Hermione.”

Seamus nodded, but Neville wasn’t convinced. “But they would’ve come back, they would’ve heard the announcement.”

“We’d better tell Professor McGonagall,” Dean sighed, and turned to go downstairs. 

“No,” Seamus said, grabbing his arm. “I’ll go.” Dean didn’t argue. 

Seamus returned a few seconds later. “We’re to go to sleep.” 

Dean only had to wait a few seconds before Seamus ducked into his bed. 

None of them slept. 

 

Ron came bursting in at one o’clock. None of them had slept.

“Wake up!” he hollered rattling Dean’s four poster frame. “Get up!” 

“Where the fuck have you been?” Dean demanded, poking his head through his curtains. Seamus got out of bed on the other side.

“Where the fuck is Harry?” asked Seamus. 

“We have to go the Great Hall, help me wake everyone up,” Ron said, ignoring them entirely. “I’ll tell you it all as we go it’s a long ass story.” 

 

This feast was unlike any Dean had experienced at Hogwarts. A stark contrast from the night before, it was loud and cheerful, with the whole school celebrating his success. “He killed a Basilisk?” could heard cried and cheered and whispered amongst the crowd. Houses mingled with houses, the four tables full. Seamus hadn’t stopped beaming the whole night. His chipped tooth was on full display, brightening the hall. Dean’s own face was starting to hurt. Gryffindor’s gain of four hundred point had guaranteed them the House Cup, and no one cheered louder than Seamus when it was announced that exams had been cancelled, although Dean caught Hermione’s disappointment.

This was the happiest night Dean had ever had at Hogwarts. 

The Hogwarts express compartment was different this year. 

Dean and Seamus had tried to get a compartment to themselves. They succeeded for a moment, before Neville burst in. Then came Parvati and Lavendar. Eventually almost thirteen second years were crushed into the compartment, with Dean crammed into the wall by Seamus. 

He watched as Hogwarts disappeared behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello everyone!! its rlly terrible i left this so long but i broke two laptops n had to do a lot of work to get my drafts back, and i've been incredibly sick for a long time so its a difficult situation. i absolutely swear it will be nowhere near the same length of time before i post the next chapter.
> 
> i hope you enjoyed!! i'll start writing ch3 immediately

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed it!! There will be more gay as it continues I promise, Deanmus is endgame. This was genuinely intended to be 500 words, but I think I got carried away. 
> 
> I'm also going to try to give Harry, Ron and Hermione more interactions with Dean and Seamus in the next one.


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